


Enansal

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Series: Nyssa of Ralaferin [4]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Gen, Melodramatic Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:49:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana
Summary: A little prequel to my backstory fic Somniari. A prelude to prelude, you can say. Made of some rough drafts I decided to combine into a little fic.





	Enansal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Somniari](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742877) by [FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana). 



> You can find more about Nyssa at her blog - https://flowercrowndalish.tumblr.com

There was a thump on the side of the aravel, and Nyssa jumped, scrubbing at her eyes frantically until all traces of wetness cleared. Moments later an older woman appeared under one of the lowest hanging silk hoods.

“Nyssa?” she said, blinking. Her dark red hair fell over her forehead in a curly mess, entwined with strands of grey. She could never bother tying it properly, Nyssa knew, and for every hour she spent in the healing tent the messier it would get.

“Aneth ara, Mamae,” Nyssa said.

Yael sat down near her with a sigh and stretched out her legs. She was wearing a tunic stained with dirt and what looked suspiciously like blood.

“I knew I would find you here,” she said fondly. “The first time was when your magic came to you.”

Nyssa laughed softly. “I was upset. I really wanted to be a hunter.”

“And I’m not judging, but something tells me this is bigger than a burned rabbit.”

_ You already know this, _ Nyssa wanted to say. She would have talked to Amias. She just wanted to hear her daughter’s side of the story.

Nyssa pulled her long hair over her shoulders and began to comb through it, not meeting her mother’s eyes. She sighed. “Keeper Elindra wanted a word about the arlathvhen.”

“Ah.”

“That’s it? No lecture? No parable on the foolish child who learned a lesson too late?”

Yael laughed, and reached out to fix a lock of her daughter’s hair. 

“You have your vallaslin now,” she said. “You’re not a child any longer. What I can teach you becomes less and less each day.”

“What I can learn becomes less the older I become,” Nyssa said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Soon I will have learned all I can, and remain the same the rest of my life.”

“Is that what you worry about? Stagnation?”

“We’ve already stagnated. Four hundred years, and what have we done but hide in the woods?”

 

Yael was silent for a long moment. Then she said, “You know I come from clan Virnehn, nearer to Halamshiral.”

Nyssa nodded. She’d heard the story many times; how Virnehn and Ralaferin had banded together just after Fereldans overthew their Orlesian conquerors, as Orlais threatened to descend into civil war. How her parents had met in this time, bonded and stayed with Ralaferin.

“Your mother was the Keeper,” she said.

Yael nodded. “She was taken with wanderlust in her youth, and wanted to see the world beyond the Dales. She left the clan and travelled for a year, then returned.”

Nyssa leaned forward with a renewed interest. “She left?”

“She was like you.” Yael patted her knees comfortingly. “She felt knowing more about the world helped serve the people better. So she left, and returned, and guided the clan for many years afterward.”

 

A part of Nyssa  _ did _ want to leave the clan. It was a tentative, trembling thought, and she’d been trying to convince herself it was no more than a passing fancy born from frustration. But the more she thought about it, the more it took shape in her mind.

“I can see you have much to think about,” Yael said, and disentangled herself. She helped Nyssa up and let her climb out of the aravel first, back into the sunshine and noise of the camp.

“I know elvhen leave the clans sometimes,” Nyssa said, chewing at her lip. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was not common. Most were exiles, but there were elves who left of their own free will. It always seemed bizarre to her -- why would one of the last true elvhen live in a human city? Even a nomadic existence had to be better than a lifetime of submission.

“I must get back,” Yael said, and rose. Nyssa took her proffered hand and climbed to her feet. “I can see you have much to think about.”

* * *

 

It wasn’t easy trying to pack provisions in a dark tent, and the pre-dawn chill wasn’t helping. It was hard for her frozen fingers to move quietly, but she gritted her teeth while patting down her bedroll. Even with the thick material, all her possessions fit into one pack. Dalish life required one to live in austerity lest you be asked to move at short notice. Sometimes with words--but mostly with weapons.

Luckily for her it wasn’t the whole clan. Just one elf, one bag, their own two feet and the long road ahead.

Nyssa went to retrieve her staff, thought better of it, then slipped under the tent flap into the semi-darkness.

“So you were just going to leave?”

She jumped, startled by the sudden voice behind her, and turned around. 

Amias stood at his tent, tunic on and bow over one shoulder. He looked hurt, Nyssa realised, and felt a pang in her stomach.

“You can’t stop me,” she said, a little tremulously, and turned away.

Amias followed her. He must have felt the same chill in the dewy grass as she did, but he caught up to her in a few strides and grasped her arm with enough firmness to make her turn around.

“I’m not trying to stop you,” he said.

“Really? It looks like you are.”

“Leaving the clan because you got in trouble with Keeper Elindra…”

“That’s not the reason, and you know it.” Nyssa slung her pack over one shoulder and indicated the silent camp with a sweep of her free hand. “It’s this -- all of this. I’m not fulfilling my duty as a Keeper just staying here all my life. We’re stagnant, the people. You know that. We’ve been like this for centuries, and it gets worse with each passing year.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Amias muttered. The vallaslin on his forehead wrinkled as he scowled, though the expression had no real heat.

“You know it’s true. You know our history.”

She knew he would try to stop her leaving somehow, even if he hadn’t been on scout duty. Amias may have been gentle by nature, but he was well-trained in the considerable skills of a Dalish hunter and honed by years of their father’s lessons. He never slept well.

“Of course I know our history,” Amias hissed. “I don’t understand why  _ you _ have to be the one to undertake such a task.”

“I’m not--” Nyssa stopped mid-sentence, exhaled through her nose and tried again. “All my life I have been trained to preserve and protect our culture, but there’s an entire world we have yet to explore. Our clan won’t be without a First. Let Neria have the position, seeing as she wants it so much.”

“Nyssa--”

“You’re trying to stall me until the Keeper wakes. It won’t work.” She pulled her arm out of his grip. “If I don’t try to learn more, then who will?”

“Someone else.” There was a fierce, desperate note in Amias’s voice that made her heart ache. “Not you. Not my flesh and blood. And what about Mother? Do you know how this will hurt her?”

“Amias--” 

Sweet Sylaise, why did this have to be so difficult? Nyssa swallowed the lump in her throat, but the damage was done. Her eyes filled with hot tears, and she fought back the urge to abandon this plan and go back to her tent.

“You have to let me go,” she said, her voice quavering. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

She turned, so he couldn’t see her cry, and walked away. He didn’t stop her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Enansal - blessing  
> Aneth ara - an informal greeting


End file.
